There they are, my fine chickens on their morning trot to see if I've offered them anything yet this morning. First their scratch, then the cat food, then the little area outside the kitchen. This is how they begin their day. The stations of their cross.
Amaryllis sticking its tongue up through the roof of the dirt-mouth.
The Buckeye's blossom. Soon it will be scarlet.
Trillium. How many shades of green? And purple.
The oaks against the blue sky, not ten minutes ago. And now it is solid gray behind them. The sky is changing as fast and dramatically as a fourteen year-old girl's emotions this morning. When I woke up, it was drizzling and the sound of the rain outside the window above my head, the call of the early-morning birds, were as sweet to me as anything I could imagine anywhere in the world. I was enfolded in my bed, I was drowsy and snug and I listened to this earth music and it was a moment in which I realized happiness on a scale both tiny and grand. Mundane and magnificent.
I am going to move slowly today, doing this chore and that. I am going to stretch my body and breathe. I am going to tend to this tiny world here which brings me so much peace and joy. And then the boys will come and there will be chaos and joy.
Until then, just the soft, quiet murmurings of home.